|(Ziva and Lucy, pets of friends)|
My thoughts in words and pictures...
She flung out her arm, sent a raging funnel of wind through the fire.
It lifted the wolf off its feet, threw it up as it screamed in rage. And she hoped, in fear. It spun, claws lashing air as it bore him up and away.
I don't remember calling the police.
I vaguely recall the sound of sirens, but they seemed to remain at a distance, never coming close enough to break through the fog enveloping my senses.
"Hey, Marce," she answered. "I can't talk right now. I'm on my way to the jail."
|There are ten of these at the nearby elementary school.|
About ten feet to my right, I’d glimpsed another cage. From what I could see through the weeds and vines, the device appeared identical to the first except for one grisly addition.
Inside the mortsafe, a pair of hands rose up out of a freshly mounded grave to grasp the iron grate.